A thousand apologies to Tolkien fans during this chapter. I am taking huge liberties with my vision of Mirkwood's kingdom. Think Ewok-like. I can see the eyes rolling as you read.

The sight of armed Elves always brought forth two distinct reactions from Aragaron. The first was an enormous sense of awe, of these agile and graceful immortals whose weapons became an extension of their being. The second was a shiver, and a tiny hint of pity for those about to encounter the fighting prowess of the ancient race. Under Elrond's tutelage, Aragorn sought to emulate the Elvish fighting style, and although more mastered than any mortal could ever be, he was still not an Elf. As a younger man, he was ashamed that he was not balanced as perfectly, his senses were not as acute, and his reflexes were not as swift. But instead of admonishing these traits in him as Aragorn did, Elrond taught him to embrace his fallacies, use them to his advantage. The result was a combination of Elvish swordsmanship and archery, and the stubborn and unpredictable heart of a mortal man. He was a better fighter than any man he had encountered, and surprised a good many Elf along the way as well.

Aragorn was not easily fooled having lived most his lives among the Elves. He could sense their agitation; it was as almost audible throughout the Kingdom of Mirkwood. Elves standing casually in the hallways threw wayward glances about them. Fists were clenched, shoulders were arched, slender hands strayed to the hilts of swords and daggers. Although none would come forth to him and admit their concerns; Elves of Mirkwood were noted for their innate distrust of all strangers, particularly men. It was not long before Elves were racing down the halls in full war apparel. Sindarin shouts warned of approaching Orcs attacking from all directions.

Aragorn paced uneasily in his guest quarters. The last Elf he had approached and asked for news had curtly told him to wait in his room where he would be safe. Aragorn unsheathed his sword and stared at the blade. It would not give him the answers; indeed it only fueled his adrenaline and an urge to do battle against the Orcs.

Elladan and Elrohir stormed into his room, a look of anxious smiles danced on their faces. "Orcs!" Elrohir whispered urgently as though he alone knew of their presence.

Aragorn nodded, frustrated. "I was told to stay in my room." He placed his sword on the bed.

"That's what we were told as well. They said it was not fitting for guests from Rivendell to fight their battles." Elladan stated.

"That would be Thranduil's way of thinking."

The three companions spun around to the door where a disheveled Gandalf stood snorting. "In his eyes it would be a failure to require help from friendly neighbors."

Aragorn smirked. "What of the Prince?"

Gandalf shrugged. "I assume that because of his injury he was told much the same we were."

Aragorn nodded and made way for the door. Elrohir stopped him with an outstretched arm. "Where are you going?"

"To see Legolas. He seems more hospitable than most of his kinsman. Perhaps he would provide us with news."

Legolas was in the middle of buckling his straps that kept his quiver in place with one good right arm and a horribly stiff left one. He grunted with the effort but was finally rewarded with a secure strap. How exactly he would manage to aim his arrows with the consistency he was accustomed to was still up in the air but he would be damned if he were ordered to his bed like an invalid while his own people were attacked.

Just as he was about to make his sly escape through the balcony doors, the soft creak of his door stopped him. He stood stock still, knowing that he was officially caught but patiently willing the berating to be over and done with. So when it did not come as was normally expected with Gandalf, he turned very slowly to observe his captor. Which brought much confusion when he locked eyes with an amused Aragorn.

"I didn't think you would stay, unless they chained you to the bed."

Legolas looked suspiciously to the bed and back to Aragorn, and then to Aragorn's hands to make sure there weren't in fact chains there. He felt a flash of relief but continued suspicion at the Rivendell man's intentions.

Aragorn held both hands in front of them, palms harmlessly facing Legolas. "I do not come here to stop you Legolas. Only to aid you."

"In my escape or my battle?" Legolas asked softly.

Aragorn shrugged. "Both." He answered just as softly.

Legolas nodded, the suspicion leaving his eyes as easily as it came. He gestured to the open balcony doors. "Shall we?"

Aragorn briefly entertained the thought of leaving by the front gates but thought better of it as he knew that Gandalf would surely stop them if not the Mirkwood Elves. Aragorn stepped out into the cool night air and gasped. The balcony gave an exquisite view of the Kingdom, the tall graceful trees that held the rooms and watchtowers of Mirkwood. The calm blue midnight above the shadowed treetops contradicted the adrenaline-surged chaos below. Torches lit up the forest floor like a river of fire. Haste yells and whistles spoke of the onslaught approaching and the proud Elves' defiance. The balcony also showed Aragorn just how high up he was.

"How do you propose we climb down?" Aragorn asked.

Legolas smiled slightly. He knew the mortal was not going to enjoy this part. "We do not go down my friend. We go up."

Aragorn looked to where Legolas pointed. He closed his eyes for a moment, suddenly wishing for a giant eagle. "Legolas, we are not birds."

Legolas let out a full-hearted laugh. "And for that I am thankful. No, we do not mimic the birds. We shall mimic the ant."

Aragorn cocked his head to the side. "Much better comparison."

Legolas grasped the top of his balcony and shrugged. "I thought so."

A bead of perspiration trickled down Legolas' brow. He wiped it away with an annoyed swipe. The climb into the tall trees from the balcony proved more difficult than he had first thought. His shoulder now throbbed in rhythm to the beat of his heart.

Aragorn noticed the Elf Prince rub his shoulder; it was quite evident from the first few steps ascending to the treetops that the wound was a nuisance. "You are not hale, Prince. Perhaps we should turn back."

A flash of irritation flitted across the Elf's face. It was shameful that he should draw sufficient attention to his bane that even the human would notice. "It is well enough." Legolas brought his bow around to his chest. He purposely decided to divert the man's attention. "Or are the heights proving too much for your abilities?"

Aragorn's brows creased. He knew he hit a soft spot when he mentioned the wound. "No. If you feel ready, then let us keep on."

The twosome left the rooftops of Elven homes and stepped cautiously onto awaiting tree branches. While Legolas leapt lightly from limb to limb, Aragoran found himself balancing precariously at times. With a silent glance and motion with one hand, Legolas signaled to him that they were about to leave the trees and make for the ground. Inwardly, Aragorn let loose a sigh of relief. Trees were fine enough to look at, but his tastes were more attuned with the earth-bound.

They had descended to the ground, effectively avoiding direct contact with other Elves, although Legolas listened intently to the whistles parlaying back and forth. He translated for Aragorn, although Aragorn informed him that he was already quite learned in the techniques of woodland Elves. With a jolt, Legolas suddenly remembered the whistles that Aragorn and his adopted brothers had used.

An ear-curdling yowl startled them. "They attack from the east." Legolas stated.

Aragorn nodded. "And they are gaining ground."

Legolas notched an arrow in his bow, but winced. His left arm began to shake as he drew his bow upright.

"Legolas, if-"

Legolas silenced Aragorn with a swift glare in his direction. "They approach quickly. You would do well to arm yourself."

Aragorn too readied his bow; the sounds of foliage being trampled by savage feet were now apparent to his ears as well. Beyond thin branches and tall grasses, he could see deformed creatures rushing them and the glaring yellow of their eyes as they spotted their prey. Aragorn stole a quick glance in Legolas' direction, noting the stock-still calm form of the Elf, although a constant cringe played at the corners of his lips.

Aragorn let out his breath that he did not realize he was holding. Calming his heart to make his hands steady he waited. He did not have to wait for long. "Here we go."